Never to send to him. Not for him to read. But perhaps to help me sort through things a little in my head, which has, actually, unfortunately, become a safe haven for emotions such as hurt and anger to hide, to be blanketed like a sick child in a down comforter with chicken noodle soup, orange popsicles, and their favorite show playing endlessly on the tv. It's like discovering halfway through the day that the child is not as sick as you thought. That the best remedy would be to be outside. Let the sun heal a little.
And if that makes any sense, then good on ya for understanding!!!!
So here it goes:
Dear Douchebag (that's right, you don't deserve the correct name usage):
There were many hurtful things that you did to me throughout our on and off 6 year relationship together. I was verbally berated when you were drinking. If I were upset about anything, even if it didn't have to do with you, I was "taking it out" on you, putting the blame on you, wanting you to fix things, and therefore a very weak person. You told me I shouldn't cry as much when you were the one causing the tears. You chose drugs and alcohol and frat brothers over me countless times. You never defended me when your "buddies" insulted me to the point of me tearing up. You defended those "buddies" if I insulting them, saying, "You insult one of my brothers, then you insult ME." You went on an on about how horrible a person your dad is, with his drinking problems, how he treated your mom, how he treats YOU; and then every day that passed I'd see more of the emotional abuser you portrayed him as in you. And one of the worst things was that you cheated on me. Twice. While I was abroad in Australia, staying true to you, defending you endlessly when the guys that wanted me said you had probably already cheated on me. "No, he's different than that," I would say over and over again. And you lied to me. My gut told me something was up. After I found the condoms in your loft when I got back from Oz. After you told me that it would be ok for me to make out with a guy at a bar in front of you. After, because of saying that, I asked if you had simply kissed anyone while I was abroad. The painful pause. How you seemed to have to spit out "No".
But that wasn't the worst. Yes, I'm still dealing with that pain. I still break down when a good friend tells me her husband is having an affair. I finally got some of the anger and hurt out that night when I called my husband, sobbing, wondering how people can do that to someone else, whether they are still in love with them or not. Whether alcohol was involved or not.
No. The worst is that you expected hunky dorey after. I told you it would take awhile to gain back trust. That I needed to see the changes; not just in fidelity, but also in your ability to control your emotions while drunk, deal with the emotional issues that you gave me, etc. I needed you to earn the trust back.
I regret very few things in life. One of those is telling you that I forgave you for the cheating. You took it as an easy out. As a, "Well she forgave me, so she must trust me." I TOLD you it would take awhile. Not just a few weeks. But months of knowing you think I'm beautiful [that ended the second we became official again]. Of having enough communication that you wouldn't flip if I asked who one of your friends was [I think I got an answer once without you thinking I was hounding you for answers and invading your privacy]. Of me being able to come to you when the hurt came back [Yea that one NEVER happened. It always turned into something about you, instead of something I was feeling].
You taught me how to keep my emotions inside.
My husband tells me every day I'm beautiful. Because of you, most days I am unable to even fathom it.
I'm reluctant to ask questions about hubby's life, because I'm still terrified that he'll have some sort of freak out. That it's normal to be sensitive and touchy when it comes to details that SHOULD be shared in an intimate relationship.
We went out for hubby's birthday, and I was in a panic attack the whole night, wondering what names I'd be called, how he'd verbally assault me when HE was drunk.
The one good thing? He's AMAZING with all of it. He didn't cause this pain on me. He knows that. I know that. And I know that he wouldn't do this to me. And it doesn't bother him to prove that every day to me.
I just hate that he has to do it more. Because of you. That he has to wake up to a phone call from me sobbing and dying for his touch and comfort and soothing words. Because of you. That he has to deal with a woman who shies away from the word beautiful. Because of you. That just wants all of this anger and hurt to go away, to be done with. because. of. you.
I hate that I wish you the worst. That I want you to be miserable. That even after the pitiful emails and voicemails you sent me, I know that was the third time I'd gotten things like that. That you don't really change. I hate that there is another woman out there who might have to go through what I went through if you decide to put your charm on her.
I hate that I can read an article at work, about how two people DID make things work, where
"Equally important was his willingness to apologize. 'I'm sorry' is a remarkably powerful phrase when it comes from the heart.
'You can just keep on saying that,' I told him. 'Over and over, whenever you feel it.' And he did."
And the floodgates get turned on. Knowing that you weren't really sorry. That you didn't keep saying it. That you never tried.
I'm just glad that I have the most wonderful man in my life right now. Who will never have to be put in that position; but if he were, I wouldn't hear another phrase from him for weeks and weeks. (But he wouldn't. He knows that I learned from you that taking back someone who will do that to me is a bad idea for me.)
Wishing you the worst,
The woman that never will be yours ever again
And yea. No idea if that helped. But I hope it did. I just want the anger and hurt gone. There's SO much happiness in me now because of Hubby and friends. People have said they've never seen me smile so much and so sincerely (added that part in because I became good at smiling behind the pain... it DOES look different!). So why can't it just go away? What will it take? Just time? I feel like I need to cry it out, but it's like my mind keeps trying to protect me from feeling it. Ugh, that douchebag had me trained pretty well to try and hide my fears...
**Just continued to read the article (here) and this quote kind of stuck...
This kind of thing happened a lot: Some out-of-the-blue realization—some piece of the puzzle I'd somehow missed—would, out of nowhere, just stun me. Each time this happened, I went spiraling down into a three- or four-day depression. After a while, it occurred to me that maybe my mind was parceling out the pain, because I never could have handled it all at once.
